No Words
by wallflowerwriter
Summary: When you speak with your body as well as your voice, a fear toxin that renders you uncommunicative has some unexpected side effects.


**Prompt**: Cass + Lethologica aka: a variant on fear toxin has rendered her unable to communicate.

**Disclaimer**: Nobody owns Cass Cain, pssh.

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><p><em>It kinda hurt. In her chest - an odd twisting that pinched her nerves. Worse than any torture. She'd stopped talking. And no one noticed.<em>

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><p>They noticed immediately. It wasn't just the not-talking thing. She was still. Even in her can't-speak-because-my-dad's-a-lunatic days, she managed to express herself just fine with her hands and those brown eyes and the way she moved. But in the five minutes she'd been home? Nothing. Her face held no trace of emotion either. No sweet smile, no smirk. Tim gave Bruce a look, and Alfred picked up on it. He shooed them away, which, considering the butler's preference that everyone be on time for dinner, spoke volumes.<p>

They took her down to the cave to perform the usual blood work and tests. She sat still in a cushy computer chair, but her eyes followed them. Aware. Tim kept glancing back at her, hoping to see _something_. She must be feeling scared or tense or at the very least upset, but he didn't get any of those vibes from her. Complete apathy. And that unnerved him.

Bruce pulled his tray of needles and tubes over and knelt before her. Making eye contact. Explaining what he was doing and why as he tied a tourniquet around her upper arm and sterilized the area with an alcohol wipe. She didn't bat an eyelash, their Cassie, until the needle met her skin.

Tim thought his vision had started to blur but soon realized that the Black Bat had moved so fast even The Batman didn't have time to keep her foot from striking his wrist and sending the needle flying.

"Cass, we're not going to hurt you. We want to figure out what's keeping you from talking. "

She blinked and blurred.

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><p><em>Nothing made sense. They wouldn't hurt her. But she couldn't. Understand. Remember. Her thoughts were mudded? Muddly? No. S<em>he swung from the roof and landed (roughly) on the building across the street._ This sucked._

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><p>"She hasn't fought like that since before Jeffers messed with her mind."<p>

"No kidding," Tim brushed some already drying specks of blood off his chin. "She moved so fast."

"B? What is going on down here?" Dick's voice echoed before him as he trampled down the stairs. "Where's Cass?"

"Gone," A rather bruised Bruce held out his hand to Tim, who promptly handed the man a bloody tube of sorts.

"Is that-?"

"Cass's," Tim supplied. "She freaked out and ran, but we really needed the sample so. Bruce managed to hold her long enough for me to get it."

"Why didn't you, y'know, knock her out?" It seemed less painful for Cass and more efficient, and _good grief_ he never imagined himself thinking that.

This time Bruce answered. "We're not sure what's wrong with her, and until we do, we can't introduce other drugs into her system."

"Makes sense," Dick nodded at Tim's tracking device. "Where'd she go?"

"Unless she's in her room, she must have ditched the tracker," Tim squinted at the handheld screen. "Or changed clothes."

"You mean she's out there as Black Bat?"

"We'll check her room to be sure, but that would be my guess. We need to find her."

Bruce looked up from his test tubes. "You two search for her; I need more time to test her blood. I'll keep you posted."

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><p><em>Her words. Mixed. Even thoughts. It sucked. Sucky? Suck? Sucksucksuck. Sounded…weird. <em>She shook her head and groaned. Her blood pulsed in her temple, and the headache reminded her. _Alive_. _But broken._

_Always. Broken._

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><p>"Have you found her yet?" Bruce sounded his normal, chipper self.<p>

"Not yet, B," Dick rolled his eyes for Tim's benefit and managed the intended effect even with his domino. "You have any info for us?"

"Found traces of fear gas. Looks like a new variety." A pause. "This one scrambles words and potentially even thoughts. Also seems to impair one's ability to emote using facial expressions and body movement."

"Poor Cass. She probably patrolled the city on her way to the manor but got mixed up with Scarecrow."

"Or at least his toxin," Tim piped in. "Have you made a cure?"

"Yes, but I'll need her back at the cave to administrate it properly."

"We'll have her back in ten, B. Promise."

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><p><em>Words. Taunted. Mocked, mocking, mockery. Control. Lost. <em>And how could she get it back without words?

"Cass? It's me, princess, it's Dick."

She stilled. But then. She hadn't been doing anything in the first place. This odd uncertainty rushed forward and threatened to push up her throat and past her mouth the way words never could.

Dick reached out a hand, and that odd fear made her flinch. Her older brother's face paled, and she wanted to comfort him. But she couldn't control her body, and she couldn't let him in on the big secret.

_Some. Thing. Wrong. With. Me._

But she couldn't even say that much, and then Tim. He was there too, and she knew she could trust them, _she did_, but the fear was there, and her words were lost.

"We know, Cassie."

She blinked up at Tim then, from where she crouched (so still) on the rooftop.

"You can't talk or read us like you usually can, and you're scared. But you don't know why, and that only makes it worse," Tim crouched in front of her then. Still a few feet away. _Safe_. "I don't know if you can understand me, but we know what's wrong and we can fix it. Please, just come back with us."

_Home_.

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><p>"Cassandra? Cassandra, can you hear me?"<p>

_That was Bruce. He sounds worried._

"Please, Cass."

_Dick. And he's squeezing my hand_.

…

_I should wake up._

She finally managed to open her eyes. Blinking as her pupils adjusted to the light._  
><em>

"There you go. Easy. How're you feeling?"

She let her gaze focus on each one of them. No fear bubbled forth, and she could talk again. Her lips thinned into a wide smile. "Perfect."

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><p>Not two hours later, Gordon found Scarecrow tied up and hanging outside his office window.<p>

Apparently, he wasn't the _only _one without a social life.


End file.
